


all my reasons why,

by tylerproposey



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Canon Compliant, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining Keith (Voltron), Slow Burn, but like roughly, im deadass surprised there's no angst, it's really just specific events i kept in, maybe? im not really sure, minor shallura, unedited because i crave death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-30
Updated: 2017-01-30
Packaged: 2018-09-20 22:50:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9519404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tylerproposey/pseuds/tylerproposey
Summary: It starts off as an infatuation, nothing more than admiration for the entrancing blue eyed boy. It turns into a crush - something he’s never had - and suddenly every shade of blue reminds him of Lance. It ends with love, something deep and turbulent, really he never stood a chance.





	

**Author's Note:**

> i mean this was just like so gooey, like where was the build up? i just went straight to that spot right between friends to lovers and wrote 11k on it. 
> 
> (also i dont feel like editing so there's going to be so many typos, also klance is probably ooc, but what can we do?)
> 
> pls leave comments, i see them and i appreciate them wholeheartedly and they make my day!!!
> 
> link to the original tumblr post that inspired me!:
> 
>  
> 
> <http://vodka-aunt-coran.tumblr.com/post/156445873892/vodka-aunt-coran-but-what-if-keiths-favorite>  
> 
> 
> thank you for ur beautiful thoughts! 

Keith has never really had time to figure himself out.

Introspection wasn’t one of his strong suits anyway; he’s more of a doer than a thinker. That’s why it’s more than a little surprising that during his second week at the Garrison he finds out that he enjoys blue, _a lot._

He’s walking down the hall, near the sleeping quarters when it happens. He hears a loud laugh, something that just begs attention. So naturally his eyes snap towards the noise, and he thinks it’s _then_ that he figures out that he never really stood a chance.

A boy about his age has an entourage following him, like moths to a fire. He’s explaining something, all hands and titled grin, he’s enrapturing. There are so many things to notice about him, that Keith _almost_ doesn’t notice the brightness of his eyes. They’re a type of blue he hadn’t known existed in this world, yet it’s still familiar. He thinks back to the astronomy class he’d taken back in middle school, remembers the pictures of the blue nebulas; a color only found in the place where stars are born. It’s fitting, he doesn’t even know what the boy’s name is, but it’s _fitting._

That’s why the next time Shiro, who’s taking him under his wing, asks him to share something – _anything_ – with him he finally has an answer.

“My favorite color is blue.”

 

\----------------

 

The weeks fly by, they’re learning the basics first. It’s a lot of training before they’re trusted enough to actually do anything.  It should be boring, Keith’s never really been good at waiting for change, he creates it, but all in all he has enough to keep his mind busy. Shiro’s teaching him hand to hand, and because he’s not above indulging himself there are the glances of Lance that he steals whenever he can. They share a couple of classes, Keith thinks they’re in the same program, but he can’t be sure.

The Garrison is big, hundreds of students enrolled into a single year, yet he can find _him_ in almost any room. He thinks it’s a talent, he also thinks it has something to do with the way the other boy just seems to pull all the eyes in the room towards him without really trying. A magnetism, a gravitational pull – he has enough self-awareness to realize that he’s waxing poetic like a fool.

It’s almost embarrassing how much he knows about the boy. Things like: he talks with his hands, he _only_ talks with his hands, his expressive eyebrows have a language of their own, there’s always a tilt to his smile, like he knows something no one else does. It’s ridiculous how curious Lance makes him, he doesn’t even know him, but he _wants_ to. They’re practically strangers, they’ve never even talked to each other so he knows that this is infatuation more than anything.

 _Still,_ he can’t help himself. Not that he wants to, he’s never had something to look forward to like he does with Lance’s antics during lectures. Sure, sometimes they’re a little grating when Keith’s actually trying to learn, but his irritation only lasts as long as he doesn’t see the exasperatingly attractive look of mischief on Lance’s face. He’d never describe himself as weak, but now – for this boy – he’s not so sure.

Not that finding Lance attractive is a weakness, it’s _not_ . In fact, it sort of drives him? The need to impress, the need to have this boy who holds everyone’s attention look at _him_ – that and his love for flying are what get his simulation scores at the top of the scoreboard week after week. He’s gotten into the habit of looking towards Lance when he’s done with his simulation, he’s either wearing a look of extreme boredom or he’s glaring at Iverson as the man explains that they should all strive to be like Keith. He can feel the hostility in the room, but chooses to ignore it since he can’t quite decipher who it’s aimed at.

Lance’s eyes get this sort of icy look to them, the warmth they usually radiate gone. It should be intimidating - that someone’s sunny disposition can drop into something so cold - but it’s not, intimidating, that is. No, the chilly glare only makes his admiration for Lance’s eyes grow. Their blueness changing with emotions Keith could only hope to experience. They’re a warm cobalt when he talks to the big guy in engineering. A steely almost black when simulation scores are posted.

“What are you looking at?” Shiro asks one day, turning to look over his shoulder in hopes of finding whatever has attracted Keith’s gaze. It’s lunch and like always Lance’s table is filled with cadets on the edge of their seats as Lance seems to be telling another one of his riveting stories. “Keith?” Shiro repeats, waving a hand in front of his face.

Reluctantly, he stops his staring, “Nothing.” He responds, shoving around the mashed potatoes on his plate, “It’s just that…” He pauses, wonders if he’s at that level with his mentor to confess, well _anything._ “How do you know if you like someone?” He asks instead.

Shiro stills, fork halfway to his mouth. “Uh, well.” He clears his throat, like the conversation is suddenly serious. “Why do you want to know?”

Keith raises an eyebrow; the man cannot be this dense.

“Right, well usually you can’t stop thinking about them. Everything they do is perfect, even when it’s not because you can’t help but like everything they do. Also there’s stuff about butterflies which I don’t really get?” Keith scrunches up his nose in confusion at the words.

“Can you like someone without ever talking to them?”

This time it’s Shiro who looks confused, “I don’t think so?” He sounds unsure even as he says this, “I mean how can you like someone without _knowing_ anything about them?”

 _Well,_ he knows _some_ things about Lance. Not as much as he’d like to, but still it’s not insignificant. He sighs, a small appreciative smile forming on his lips, “You suck at this,”

“I know, I haven’t ever really had time to _like_ someone so I don’t really know what I’m talking about,” Shiro chuckles, something relieved and nervous at the same time. Keith nods, understanding that sometimes a crush isn’t at the forefront when it came to priorities. That had been him, until Lance happened…

 

\----------------

 

At the end of the year Keith makes fighter pilot; Lance doesn’t.

 

\----------------

 

The desert sky is a pale blue, it’s unfamiliar and bland in a way he’s never noticed before. It’s vast and open and reminds him of how alone he is. The shack creaks with the wind and Keith can’t even find it in himself to wallow in self-pity, not when Takashi Shirogane is _missing -- not_ _dead._ It’s not denial, just a matter of fact, Shiro was and still _is_ the best pilot the Garrison has ever trained. The Kerberos crew cannot be dead, especially because of _pilot error._

That’s what lands him alone in the desert, nothing but the niggling feeling of something calling to him to keep him company. There’s not much to do anymore, he’s figured out all he can with the little information he was given. Somedays he stares at his compiled information: pictures, sketches, readings, all haphazardly pinned to a shoddy looking board – he knows if it were possible for him to look a little closer, he’d figure out. The issue is that he can’t. Other days he travels to the cave with strange markings, presses his hand to the carvings and feels the thrumming of energy at his fingertips.

But, on days like today he allows his idle mind to wander. It usually ends up with him either thinking of Shiro or Lance, sometimes both. When he thinks of Shiro he remembers the supportive shoulder claps, proud smiles, long encouraging talks and gruesome training sessions. When he thinks of Lance it’s always about the predictable slant of his smile, the loud inviting laugh, flailing demonstrative limbs, the tan of his skin against the white of his teeth.

At the end of the day he climbs his way onto the roof, it’s a dangerous and shaky, but he does it anyway. Mostly because at night he doesn’t feel as isolated, in fact it feels almost crowded with the pinpricks of stars lining the night sky. He feels closer to Shiro like this, hopes maybe the stars are watching over both of them. It also reminds him of Lance, the midnight blue much closer to his favorite color than it has any right to be.

During this time, he allows himself the pleasure of musing about what Lance might be doing. He’d memorized the other boy’s ranking, knows that with his expulsion the now empty fighter pilot position would go to Lance. It’s pleasant to think that Lance is thriving at the Garrison, academically Lance had always had the number one spot, but with a military academy performance always trumps knowledge.

A low rumbling distracts him from his thoughts, the desert sand vibrating, it feels like a warning – he doesn’t recognize it for what it is at the time, later he’ll know. The next second there’s a blinding light in the sky, something foreign and fast penetrates the atmosphere, even from this distance he can tell there’s no stopping it. Mind racing, he realizes that it’s some sort of shuttle, a pod that’s distinctly not of this earth. It looks like it’ll land close by…

All it takes is one glance towards the obscure cave, and Keith bolts into action. He’s going to get answers even if he has to go up against the Garrison’s soldiers.

 

\----------------

 

“Who are you?” Slips out, because he’s nervous and Lance is so much more attractive this close up. Also, he’s _just_ found Shiro and his mind is a little jumbled with questions and adrenaline.

“Who am I? Uh, the name’s Lance.” Keith has to resist the urge to respond with _‘I know,’_ doesn’t know how creepy that would seem. Lance blinks his eyes, the really bright ones, at him. Belatedly he realizes that the other boy is waiting for a response, some form of recognition. His eyebrows raise with contempt before he continues, “We were in the same class at the Garrison,”

Keith sort of panics, “Really? Are you an engineer?” He knows the answer to this, he asks anyway.

“No, I’m a pilot!” Keith tries to keep his face blank, “We were, like rivals. You know, Lance and Keith, neck and neck.” He only _just_ manages to keep a reaction off his face, the fact that Lance knows his name does something funny to him.

“Oh, wait. I remember you. You’re a cargo pilot.” It’s the closest thing to the truth that he can muster out. Apparently, but not surprisingly, it’s the wrong thing to say.

“Well, not anymore. I’m fighter class now, thanks to you washing out.” There’s an almost smug tone to his words, but it’s drowned out by that familiar smirk. Something he usually reserves when pointing out the flaws in Iverson’s lectures, it’s challenging and condescending all at the same time.

“Well, congratulations.” He offers, it comes out stiff and uncomfortable like most things do. It doesn’t matter right now though, they have more important things to deal with. Like Shiro’s heavy unconscious form, and the returning military officials and vehicles all vying for their heads. With a great heave they finally work their way to Keith’s hover bike. Hunk, who he remembers as Lance’s best friend, and someone smaller who he doesn’t recognize follow them. The ride is bumpy, and slightly treacherous, but he manages to get them all to his shack in one piece – despite Lance’s constant hysterical complaints.

Shiro wakes up the next morning disoriented, but relieved to be safe. They all listen in silence as Keith explains the sensation of feeling lost, and then finding himself in the middle of the desert, something drawing him out here and cutting him off from civilization. The strange ancient markings, telling the story of a blue lion, his gaze hovering towards Lance as he says this because he has a hard time _not_ associating the color with him. Lance’s face is twisted into concentration, he’s scanning the board of information, and he doesn’t even seem to question the impossibility of what Keith’s just said. He accepts it as fact.

Shiro nods as he processes everything he’s just said, before turning to the group of essentially strangers, “I should thank you all for getting me out. Lance, right?” Keith doesn’t miss the way Lance’s eyes immediately flicker towards the older man. His eyes glint with admiration, and surprise, a little more brilliant than he’s ever seen him. There’s a moment of hesitation when he’s offered the prosthetic hand, but ultimately his innate friendliness has him shooting Shiro a kind crooked smile and a warm gripping handshake. It stirs something covetous in his chest, but he can’t exactly dwell on it.

More pressing matters are at hand, they need to find the source of the energy. Mainly because they can all feel the looming threat of _something_ hanging in the air. It takes a while before they collectively decide that the answers they’re looking for are somewhere in the cave of markings. And of course, Lance is the key to them figuring it out, because everything always goes back to him doesn’t it?

All it takes is for Lance’s fingers to reverently skim the etchings and the cave is flooded with an electrifying blue, it’s almost other worldly. The ground collapses underneath them, it takes a few minutes for Keith to shake away the feeling of vertigo. He groans, annoyed that he’s soaked with cave water. Anything he was planning on saying dies on the tip of his tongue the second he looks up and sees the large mecha lion sitting in front of them. Its presence seems too large for it to be trapped, he can feel it's – _her_ – power, unyielding and uncontainable, but there she sits unmoving like she’s waiting for something, _someone._

“There’s a force field around it.” He comments, already halfway to her. The closer he gets the more he can feel her strength thrumming in his bones. She’s blue, because why wouldn’t she be? “I wonder how we get through this.” He presses his hands against the shimmering field, it wavers but holds in the end.

“Maybe you just have to knock,” Lance says, doing just that. There’s a brief second before anything happens where Keith allows himself to admire the way the intense blueness of the shield illuminates Lance’s sharp features. The light bounces off his eyes and Keith can’t decide which color is more dazzling.

But then the shield drops, it answers to Lance, and the lion her eyes glint with a sort of acceptance. Keith isn’t the least bit surprised, in fact he feels mostly vindicated. Just because he feels as though he has this solidarity with this sentient being, they’re both not immune to Lance’s allure, they both don’t want to be.

 

\----------------

 

It’s easy for them to fall into the role of rivals, it’s the only option Keith’s presented with anyway. He doesn’t have much of a say on how their dynamic develops, but he figures that anything is better than nothing.

He learns more about himself (and Lance) in space than he ever did on Earth.

It takes Lance’s effortless flirting with princess Allura, his awed gazes when Shiro speaks to him, his little rendezvous with Nyma, for Keith to acknowledge that he’s quite capable of jealousy. He knows that this sort of fierce envy teeters on the edge of recklessness, it was easier just admiring Lance from afar. Back then he hadn’t had the privilege of cataloging the blue paladin’s micro expressions, this closer distance lets him recognize the playful dark blue of his eyes that suggests attraction. Regrettably this newfound knowledge has him constantly gritting his teeth and looking away, that sort of look won’t ever be directed his way.

Not that he wants it to? He doesn’t really know what he wants. He just knows that his mind is constantly focused on the other boy, that he finds every aspect and nuance of Lance endearing and _beautiful._ He likes him, he just doesn’t know where that’ll get him.

“Keith,” Lance singsongs, sidling up next to him as they follow the procession of this particular planet’s ‘tour guides’, they’re headed towards some famous natural phenomenon of some sort and it isn’t until Lance’s voice breaks him from his reprieve that he realizes he’s fallen behind the group, “I’m bored,”

“What do you want me to do about it?” He responds, eyeing Lance’s pout with distrust.

“Entertain me?” He prompts, poking at Keith’s shoulder. Anyone else and Keith would’ve brushed them off, but this is Lance and he’s never really been good at denying him anything. Plus, he enjoys this back and forth, it’s almost friendship but there are too many sarcastic remarks between them for that to be accurate.

“I’d rather not,” He says, it won’t deter Lance, but it’s what’s expected of him. “Why don’t you go listen to what the guide is saying? I’m sure you’ll learn something for once,” Lance scoffs in absolute disgust. He jogs a little forward and turns around so that he’s walking backwards and pointing accusingly at Keith.

“Hey! You’re not listening either,” His eyes are narrow slits of mock vexation. Keith’s learned to recognize real annoyance for playful one.

“I’m not the one complaining though, am I?” Keith says, swatting away the finger in his face.

“Keith c’mon, the guy said that the hike is going to take an hour _at least,_ ” The aforementioned pout is back again. It’s like he can read Keith’s mind, knows that eventually he’ll cave in to whatever nonsensical demands he decides on.

He tries to hold his pretense for a little while longer, but eventually it crumbles, “Fine,” he sighs like this is the greatest burden that’s ever been placed upon him even though he’s become a defender of the universe at the mere age of nineteen, “We could play I spy?” He offers.

Lance’s answering smile is almost fond, “That’s so middle school. Also we don’t know the name of anything on this planet you cheater!” He almost trips over a rock, and it _is_ a rock because those things are universal. Keith’s hands automatically reach for his shoulders to steady him, the instinct almost embarrassingly fast. Lance doesn’t seem to mind, instead he wraps his fingers around his wrists in an indication that Keith is now steering him. “Let’s play 20 questions!”

“Oh, but that’s not middle school?” He retorts, but he can’t stop the smile from forming on his face.

“Obviously not,” Lance continues, seemingly unaffected. “I’ll go first!” He lets go of one of Keith’s wrists to tap a finger against his chin, “Okay, what was the name of your first pet and what kind of pet was it?”

“That’s two questions,” Keith informs him, glad that the release of his wrist was only temporary. “But I’ve never owned a pet, couldn’t really in foster care.” Lance’s face doesn’t drop at his words, unlike Shiro who’d almost cried the first time he mentioned that he was an orphan. He’s not sure what the lack of reaction means –

“You look like a betta fish kinda man,” Lance says, tilting his head to the side in a sort of analytical way, “We’ll get you one when we go back to earth,” Keith’s heart does a little skip at the sound of _we._ There’s an immense sense of gratitude in the way Lance isn’t forcing details out of him, or the way he doesn’t seem to pity him.

Keith rolls his eyes, it’s mainly to dispel the tension in his shoulders, “What was the name of your first pet?”

“No, we’re not doing that,” Keith veers him a little to the left to avoid a particularly vicious tree root that’s sticking up from the ground, “We’re not recycling questions. But, since you’re so curious I’ll tell you, I owned a hamster named Lincoln back in the fifth grade,” Keith raises an eyebrow at that and receives a shrug for his troubles, “I was really into U.S. History, what can I say?”

“You always seemed more like a dog person?”

“Always is a strong word for someone you’ve known for a month,” Lance is teasing, but Keith feels caught. He averts his eyes and wills his blush to go away, “And I am, I own three dogs at home. The hamster was just the first pet I ever owned, it lived for four years and then died of old age. Which broke my heart, so my mom never let me own another one,”

“Your mom’s a smart woman”

“Yeah she is,” Lance gets a momentarily faraway look in his eyes, a familiar burning that Keith had pinpointed as homesickness at some point. “Anyway!” He continues, returning to the moment “It’s my turn. What would you name your hypothetical child?”

“What?” Keith splutters, “Lance you’re so _weird_ ”

“It’s a legitimate question!” Lance says, squeezing his wrists in order to emphasize his point. “Now answer.”

“I don’t know?” Keith’s voice goes a degree higher like it usually does whenever he doesn’t know how to respond to Lance’s behavior, “I’ve never really thought about it?”

“What,” Lance screeches bringing them to a halt, “Everyone has thought about this at least once! See for example I would name my son Santiago and my daughter Esmeralda, but at home I’d call them Santi and Esme,”

“Lance— “

“Okay, new question,” Lance interrupts resuming his slow paced backwards walk, “What’s your favorite color?”

“Blue,” Keith responds almost automatically, his eyes widen at the implication of what he’s just said to the _blue_ paladin of Voltron. Still Lance’s face doesn’t betray anything, and people say Keith’s the one with the best deadpan. Clearly not.

After what seems like an eternity Lance finally starts, brows scrunched together in what seems like confusion, “I would’ve thought it was red…”

“Uh, no. I – I don’t know,” He doesn’t know how to say he’s never really had a favorite color before Lance, knows he won’t say anything anyway, “It’s too intense,”

There’s a soft sort of laugh that Lance releases through his nose, “What kind of blue?” He prods, and his eyes seem lighter like they’re taunting him to respond with a confession, but color can’t do that so Keith shrugs and goes with the safest option.

“There’s no one specific shade, I guess it changes depending on the day,” Does that even make sense? It should, it’s a half-truth all the same.

Lance hums a noise of agreement, “What’s it today?”

Keith tries not to look him in the eyes, feels like his answer will be obvious that way, “Cornflower blue,”

“That’s really specific,” Lance says.

Keith swallows, meets his gaze, grips Lance’s shoulders tighter, and says, “Yeah, it is.”

 

\----------------

 

Things change after that particular conversation, their bickering goes from daily to weekly to monthly to nonexistent. It’s nothing too cordial either, they form some semblance of friendship, and Keith’s really grateful for that. Sure they still taunt and tease, but it’s not rival based anymore. Lance has a way of taking the sting out of every comment, his eyes shining a good-natured navy blue.

By chance they happen to learn that they’re a force to be reckoned with on the field. They’re a perfect mix of long to close range fighting, Lance shoots down sentries at an astonishing pace. It allows for Keith to take down the remaining ones comfortably so that he doesn’t have to exhaust himself picking up the slack. They’re on an equal level when protecting each other, and sometimes when there are reprieves in the battle Keith permits himself a glance in the other boy’s direction.

It makes his breath catch in his throat, Lance is bewitchingly beautiful. The longer parts of his hair stick to the nape of his neck with sweat, there’s a bruise forming along his jaw, smudges of dirt smeared all over his face, making his eyes stand out sharply. Chemical adrenaline making them a piercing cerulean, and when he looks over to Keith a brilliant smile adorning his lips, he feels like he’s witnessed something heavenly.

“We’re a good team,” Lance says, his voice breathy from exertion. His words are reminiscent of the attack on the castle during their first week. Their _first_ week, and even then Lance had risked his own life for that of a complete stranger, his eyes pinched closed with pain following the aftermath of the explosion had haunted Keith for weeks.

“Why wouldn’t we be?” Keith retorts, because Lance always says it with an underlying tone of shock. He stops and briefly checks the next corner, relieved that it’s empty of enemy soldiers.

“Cause you’re you,” Lance answers matter of factly, Keith can feel his presence behind him, bayard gun raised and aimed at the distance where their potential threats lie.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He stops at an outcropping in the hall, there’s a large supporting beam that should provide them cover if a fleet of Galra decide to show up. He doesn’t mean to make this into a big deal, it’s just that the way Lance says things sometimes throws him and leaves him feeling on edge.

Lance stares at him in disbelief, gaze flicking from him to the impending hallway in front of them, “You know what I mean,” he waves a dismissive hand in the air, like he can’t be bothered to have this conversation.

Frustrated, Keith catches the hand awkwardly, “I really _don’t_ ”

Lance stares at their linked hands, and fixes him with a significant look, “It’s just that you’re great at everything, and I’m not. I didn’t think I’d be able to keep up,”

Keith gapes, because _what?_

“Keith, Lance, have you two made it to the control room yet?” Shiro’s voice in the comms startles them both. Keith frowns as Lance reclaims his hand to turn on his earpiece, albeit he follows suit. Knows that their leader will get worried if they don’t respond.

“Almost there. We’ll get Pidge whatever tech junk they need and make our way back to the lions ASAP. Five minutes tops, unless we run into trouble then ten minutes tops,” Lance winks at him conspiratorially, all hints of seriousness gone.

“One man’s tech junk, is another’s treasure,” Pidge chirps cheerily not at all bothered by Lance’s remark.

A jerk of his head and Lance is signaling them forward. They don’t really need words to communicate in the field anymore. Allura’s sent them on so many missions together that he’s able to read strategies from the uplift of the other paladin’s brow. “Pidge, tell me the truth. Who do you like more? Me or science?” Lance jokes, he’s taken the lead which isn’t the safest option.

“You ask too much of me,” Pidge’s tone sounds extremely pained.

“Pidge! You little – “Lance stops short abruptly, making Keith slam harshly into his back.

“Lance?” Keith questions, stopping from going further when Lance’s arm shoots out behind him. It’s cagey, like he’s trying to pin him behind him, but can’t at this angle.

“Keith just – just stay there, yeah?” His voice is edging on desperate, so Keith does as he’s told. Still he tilts his head a little to see what’s stopped them, and a cold icy dread floods his veins. It stiffens him, thankfully, otherwise he’d have jolted forward which from a survivalist standpoint would be counterproductive.

A ragged looking Galra commander who’s probably just had his ass handed to him in Shiro’s sector stands before them. His lethal stunner pointed right at Lance – and while the paladin is doing the same, they’re at a standstill until one, or both pull the trigger. Except Lance has never killed anyone, sentries don’t count, they’re nothing more than programmed droids. Keith on the other hand has no qualms about putting down anyone who threatens Lance, especially if they’re Galra. It’s just not an option though, he knows if he even so much as twitches a muscle the enemy will fire with no hesitation whatsoever. And because he knows Lance like the back of his hand he also knows there’s no chance in hell that the boy will duck, not when Keith’s standing right behind him.

“Is something wrong?” Shiro questions, his instincts kicking in. Neither one of them is able to reply.

“How about we both lower our weapons?” Lance suggests instead. They both know it’s a futile gesture, but it’s not really for the Galra’s benefit, it’s for Shiro’s.

“On my way,” Shiro says, tone low like he thinks the Galra will hear, and maybe he can because his ear twitches and the yellow eyes narrow menacingly.

“Vrepit Sa,”

The two words have Keith in motion before he even realizes, the stunner fires and Keith’s shoving Lance aside while simultaneously crouching. As he rights himself he knocks the gun out of the Galra’s grip with his forearm. Using the other hand still wielding his sword, he only barely stops himself from jamming it through the commander’s chest. The Galra seems shocked at the callousness of his actions, like he hadn't expected for a paladin of Voltron to want to _kill_ him. With a growl and great reluctance Keith strikes the Galra with the hilt of his sword effectively knocking him out. He reaches for the stunner and tucks it against his side – just in case the idiot wakes up soon (he won't).

“Shit what the –” Lance’s voice cuts through his anger. He's spinning around at a speed he didn't even know he possessed.

Keith almost cries with relief when he sees that Lance is relatively fine, he's half sitting on the floor and seems to be nursing his right shoulder, but he's _alive._ “Are you okay?” He asks crouching down so that he's balancing on his heels in front of Lance. 

“Mostly,” Is Lance’s answer, “The shot grazed me, _god_ this stings,” He pushes himself into a better sitting position, his back against the hallway wall, head leaned upward to look at the ceiling.

“It could've done more than graze you!” Keith accuses, shooing Lance’s hand away to inspect the sizzling flesh of his shoulder. “Shiro, we’re okay. But Lance is hurt, I don't think we’ll be able to make it to the control room.”

“That's fine, just stay safe,” Pidge starts, the mission had really been at her request. Her voice sounds a bit rattled, and almost too quiet to hear, “By the way Lance I like you a little more than science,”

Keith knows the sentiment. Being able to know your friends are in trouble, _hearing_ that they're in pain, and not being able to do anything. So yeah the relief of finding out they're fine tends to make them all sappy, it's part of the job description.

“Don't worry Pidge,” Lance laughs into the comms, a tender smile, that they all usually save for the fourteen year old, graces his lips. “I'm fine, we’ll get you your techno whatever,” Lance shoots him a glare that tells him not to interrupt.

“This is _stupid,_ ” Keith hisses, the moment they switch off the sound from their end of the comms. “We can do this another day, I can come back with Shiro tomorrow!”

Lance grimaces, and shakes his head like Keith’s the one acting foolishly, “I’m fine,” He tries to stand and winces loudly when he puts pressure on his wounded shoulder, “Look, the stunner is a self cauterizer, it's not like I'm going to bleed out,” he tries standing again, this time his efforts hold but he stumbles a bit.

Sighing, and knowing that Lance’s stubbornness will always outlast his own, he maneuvers them so that he's supporting most of Lance’s weight from his unharmed side. Still he tries to reason with the other boy, “You _know_ that the longer you don't get this healed the more likely it is that you'll scar.”

“What's another scar to the collection?” Lance leans some more onto him, he's warm against his side.

“What're you talking about? You don't even have any scars?” Keith knows, he's mapped out the smooth expanse of the other boy’s flawless skin.

“That's cause you haven't seen me shirtless,”

He doesn't even have the mind to get flustered at that, “I don't understand,”

Lance eyes him funnily, “Well you're right. The longer we stay away from the healing pod the more likely it is that it'll scar over. The night that Sendak took over the castle we didn't get the castle running again until later the next morning. I healed, but the explosion left a bunch of ugly scars on my back,”

“Oh,” Is all he responds with, because what else can he say?

“I mean I don't really mind them, they’ll just make my life harder when we go back to earth and my mom demands details on how I got each and everyone of these scars. I don't want to have to explain them to her,”

Keith hesitates, wonders if he's allowed to say what he wants to say. And because they're alone and Lance is most likely focused on the pain emitting from his shoulder he does, “So just tell her the truth,” He slides the hand that had been wrapped around Lance’s waist, up his spine and to the spot right between his shoulder blades. It makes them both stop, “Tell her you got them saving lives, tell her you were being a hero,”

He looks up and Lance is wearing the most awestruck look on his face, his smile is a little wobbly but it's there, “Yeah. Okay, I will.”

They steadily look into each other's eyes for a little while longer, before Lance tears his eyes away. “We should probably get going?” He says, there's a pink dusting on his cheeks that suggests that Keith isn't the only one who's found this entire exchange oddly intimate.

“You just want Pidge to owe you a favor,” He playfully provokes, Lance’s response is a very mature flipping off, and the atmosphere heavy with unspoken emotion disappears.

 

\----------------

 

Haggar’s curse rips them apart from inside the wormhole. They're separated for the first time since becoming defenders of the universe, and Keith feels a visceral longing deep within him. He wonders if this is what the others have felt like the entire time, being separated from their families and just having to live with that ache. He has a new found appreciation for his team and vows to never categorize their homesickness as weakness ever again.

It's a little comfort that at least he's not alone, he has Shiro and although he wishes the older man was inside a healing pod instead of here, he's grateful for the company. At some point their relationship had gone from mentor of a juvenile delinquent to that closer described by the word ‘brothers.’ Keith can admit he prefers the development a lot more than he’d originally thought.

He’s just started a fire, it crackles and it's seems to bend a little like it wants to lick at Keith’s hands from where they hover nearby for warmth. Shiro’s mostly reclining against Red’s maw – she's crouched down so that they have easier access in case those vicious red eyed creatures are attracted to the heat he’s created.

“Keith,” Shiro starts, making him look over. His face is pale and a little sweaty, he hopes it's not another ‘YOU should lead Voltron’ speech, “I figured it out. Figured out the butterfly thing,”

Keith frowns, hunches over to press a hand on his forehead because fevers can induce delirious babbling right? Shiro simply laughs it off, “Remember back at the Garrison? You asked me what it meant to like someone?”

He racks his brain until he remembers the conversation. Remembers how unattainable Lance had seemed then, how unattainable he still seems now. “Oh yeah. You we were pretty useless,”

“Gee thanks,” Shiro says dryly, cracking an eye open to glare at him “Anyway I felt them, the butterflies. It's like this fluttering in your stomach, makes you feel almost sick, but in a _good_ way. You felt them before?”

He thinks back to all the times Lance has rewarded him with a gleaming smile, eyes bright and blue, “Yeah, yeah I have.” It takes him awhile for it to register that Shiro’s trying to tell him something. “Wait? Who have _you_ felt them for?”

Shiro smiles, “Princess Allura," 

“Yeah I can see that. How long?” Keith asks.

“Not long, or I don't know. I knew when she threw me halfway across that Galra ship and into the escape pod. What a woman,”

“You're gross, I hope you know that.”

That earns him a pained chuckle, “But seriously she's good to me,” he pauses adds on a, “she’s good _for_ me,” It's a testament to Allura’s ability to talk him out of his PTSD induced flashbacks. Her voice soothing and calming as he blinks back to reality.

“You’re so sappy, you’re lucky girls like that kinda thing,” He teases, just because he can.

“So do boys,” Shiro adds hesitantly. “You finally gonna admit to me who makes _you_ feel all gooey on the inside?”

“Why should I? You already know,” He says petulantly. It's childish and immature, but he's never said it out loud.

“I just wanna hear it once,” He looks down and regrets it immediately when he's met with his leader’s patented puppy dog look. “C’mon” Shiro wheedles when it takes too long for him to respond, “Are you going to deny a dying man his last wish?”

“I told you to stop joking about that,” He smacks the older man’s shoulder lightly, not enough to hurt. He looks off into the horizon and takes a deep breath, saying it out loud won't change anything, he doesn't understand why it unnerves him so much, “I love Lance.”

And there it is, he gets it now. Why he hadn't said it before, he'd been sort of expecting to say _like_ , but his heart knows better. Won't allow him to lie to himself, let alone the only family he has.

“I know,” Is all Shiro says. He sounds proud all the same.

 

\----------------

 

They find themselves with the last hope of a vacation a little after Shiro’s finally reclaimed the Black Lion from Zarkon. There's a pocket in time where they're not being chased, and they're not in a rush to find answers or anything like that.

Coran sets the course to a faraway planet called Domum, it’s known for its flora and fauna, but mostly it's known for its beaches. Keith has an inkling that the older Altean had specifically chosen this particular planet to see Lance light up, he can't with good conscience complain about the obvious favoritism. It's one of the few things he and Coran have in common. 

They land on one of the beaches with cliffs surrounding them, it obscures the ship from prying eyes and gives them the privacy they'd been longing for. The grains of sand are a dull gray, the ocean a sparkling grass green more than anything. If he squints he can pretend they're back on earth.

Lance and Hunk are already in the water, so he settles himself a few feet away from the tide to watch them splash around. He doesn't mind when Pidge flops down beside him and begins building what looks like a life size sand model of Rover.

“I know it's the beach, but this isn't Baywatch. You don't have to drool so openly,” Never mind, he _does_ mind Pidge.

Regardless, he doesn't bother denying it. Pidge’s too smart to fall for that anyway, instead he flicks sand at her. “Shut up, who asked you anyway,”

She snickers at that, “I was kidding anyway. You don't look at Lance like most people do,”

He should drop the stream of conversation now, doesn't know how much Lance can hear, but he's thoroughly distracted and the distance seems safe enough, so he asks because curiosity always wins out in the end, “What do you mean?”

Pidge pauses from where she's molding the sand to look at him. “People who _like_ Lance look at him like they're thirsty, sometimes even hungry,” She stops again, looks out to where Lance is jumping the curve of the waves with Hunk, “You look at Lance like you’re a blind man looking at the sun for the first time. It hurts you, but you can't seem to look away,” 

“That is a fairly accurate description,” Allura says, as she plops down on his other side. He startles, both at her sudden appearance and at her words. Does everyone know? Does _Lance_ know? 

“He's something alright,” Is all he can say for himself. He’s never really been good at discussing his emotions with anyone.

Pidge snorts, “You’ve got it bad,”

“I don't know. I think it's sweet that you've allowed yourself to feel this deeply,” Allura sighs wistfully, “There's war ravaging the universe, and still love seems to be the strongest thing out there. It's something I wished for myself in my younger years, but I don't think it's in destiny’s plans anymore,”

Instinctively his stare cuts to where Shiro’s tanning with Coran, they're chatting and Keith wonders if he’s buttering up the father figure. Allura, ever perceptive follows his line of vision and visibly flushes when she sees where it leads. At this point the cat is inadvertently out the bag, so it's better to put in a good word instead of saying nothing, “You two would be good,”

“Yeah, statistically speaking your chances with him are astronomically high,” Pidge adds.

Allura’s blush goes even deeper, before she bites her lip in a contemplative way, “I've thought about it,” She confesses, voice soft “I just wonder if he’s in a good enough head space. If it won't interfere with our fight against Zarkon,”

Keith sighs, he's had this conversation too many times with Shiro. “You don't have to do anything about it _now_. Just know that he's there, waiting. Well, I mean I guess you both are,” She nods and gets up, dusting the sand off her legs.

“You’re right,” She's got this determined look in her eye and she winks down at them, before releasing her hair from the bun she'd trapped it in. It's all very dramatic, even Pidge wolf whistles.

Keith can't help his laughter at the way Shiro splutters when he sees her. She wears an innocent smile and looks to be offering a walk on the beach, who knew she was a total cliche? Coran’s wearing a knowing smile, he lifts up his sunglasses to give Allura _a look_ before he's back to his leisurely sunbathing. The whole exchange fills him with a sort of happiness he's never felt before, then again he's never had friends to be excited on their behalf.

“You're all fools,” Pidge says, drawing his gaze away from their leaders, “All I have to say is ‘statistically’ and you all believe me. I haven't done the math on them yet,” She cackles.

“There's actual math for that?”

Pidge levels him with a pitying look, “Of course there is.”

“I can't tell if you're messing with me or not,”

Pidge shrugs, the conversation eventually petering out. They sit in companionable silence, she's drawing the details onto her sand-Rover and he continues to stare. It isn't until the suns of the planet are hanging low that Lance catches his gaze. He smiles, it's lopsided and boyish. 

Hunk says something to him, and suddenly the eye contact is over as quick as it started. Lance nods at whatever he says before they go their separate ways. Tan skin slightly darker, glistening with water, and slicked back hair make their way towards where they’re sitting.

“Oh wow, you actually have hearts for eyes right now,” Pidge whispers, because Lance is close enough to hear now. He shoves her away from his ear with a scowl.

“Keith come swim with me!” Is the first thing Lance says, he crouches down at eye level like he knows his pretty blue eyes will get him anything he wants.

“Why didn't you ask _me_ to swim with you?” Pidge sniffs offended. They are such a goddamn instigator. 

Lance for his part looks absolutely baffled, “Don't you melt when you come into contact with water?” Pidge kicks sand onto his face before deciding that  _she doesn't need this, Hunk will be glad to have her company!_ “Okay, bye Pidge!” Lance says, feigning obliviousness. She flips him off over her shoulder. Once she's far enough away Lance’s eyes flick back to him. “So what do you say?”

Keith frowns towards the ocean, “I don't know. I've never,” _seen the ocean, been in the ocean,_ “I don't know how to swim,” is what he opts for.

“I’ll teach you!” 

“I’d really rather not, I don't like feeling out of my element,” He knows he's blowing his chance to spend some alone time with Lance, but he can't shake his anxiety.

To his credit Lance doesn't seem upset, “That's okay. How about you sit on that rock and _I_ swim. It's pretty smooth, you won't cut yourself or anything. It's like waist deep max, c’mon I just want some company,” He reaches for Keith’s hand and tugs.

Keith eyes the rock, it's high enough that he won't get all that wet and it's not deep enough for him to be worried. “Okay yeah,” he lets Lance pull him into the water excitedly.

The ocean feels surprisingly refreshing against his heated skin, Lance doesn't let go of his hand until he's sitting safely on the outcropped rock, his legs dangling into the water. The suns are warm, an encompassing heat against his exposed chest. “You don't know how to swim?” Lance asks conversationally, he's floating on his back nearby.

“No, I've never lived near the ocean. And no one ever took me to a pool or anything,”

“When we’re back on earth, first place we’re going is Varadero beach. You don't have to swim, but earth’s oceans are way prettier than this,” He waves a hand around, “The water is so clear, and blue. You'll like it,” Keith’s heart swells three times too big for his chest. It's the little things Lance does, the way he always seems to include him in his earth plans, no matter the context.

“Yeah, I’d like that,” The smile he gives him is small, but genuine. Lance turns from his floating to look at him, he flips over and swims closer than before.

His arms are on either side of his legs, “You look nice like that,”

Keith feels his cheeks burn, “Like what?”

Lance hesitates, searching his eyes for something before finally deciding he's found it. He rests his cheek on Keith’s knee – it's a warm wet comforting weight – and looks up at him, “Your smile is pretty,”

“Oh,” Is all he can say, but because Lance says it with such confidence he can't help but feel like it's true. He smiles something bashful at Lance. “Thank you,”

Lance doesn't respond, instead he reaches up and touches the corner of his smile, almost reverently. Water droplets hang off the tips of his fingers, he lets the touch linger a little while longer before he drops his arm on Keith’s lap with a wet plop. He crosses the other one over it and then resettles his cheek onto it, he's still looking up at Keith and there's a shyness to the angle of his smile.

He speculates, is touching okay between them now? Is that something they're allowed to do? Well, Lance did it so why can't he?

A little bit nervously, he moves a hand to Lance’s shoulder and it's a bit awkward. Doesn't really have a reason to be there, and he's going to move it again when he feels something raised on the skin. Eyebrows scrunching with piqued interest, he lets his hands explore a little further. He hears Lance let out a resigned sigh and it almost makes him pull back. He sits up straighter, hunching over Lance to get a look at whatever the abrasion is.

There are marks all over his back, some are white, others a pinkish color. Suddenly he's reminded of a distant conversation, something about scars ….

“Yeah I know they're bad,” Lance says, Keith remembers the word he’d used to describe them: _ugly._ That doesn't settle right with him. Nothing about Lance could ever be described with _that_ word. 

“No they're not,” He gently touches the particularly long one between along the bumps of his spine. Lance shivers reflexively, “They remind me you're alive, I think they're nice,” He pulls back enough to see Lance’s face when he lets out a loud laugh, its boisterous and he's sure that Coran’s heard it from the shore, still it feels like it's just for Keith. It's dazzling and not at all self-deprecating so he allows it.

“Do you just say whatever you're thinking?” Lance asks, mirth making his eyes sparkle more than usual.

Keith stalls, can't help but look Lance in the eye as he says, “Not all the time.”

Lance raises a questioning eyebrow, but doesn't verbally ask what he means. It's a relief really.

The water is still, and Keith can hear the faraway sound of his friends setting up for a late lunch, yet it still feels like it's only him and Lance out here. This whole afternoon feels like a whirlwind of emotions, Lance is confusing. He's being strangely affectionate, in a way that he's never been with anyone – not even Hunk. But right now none of that confusion matters, it's just them _together_ right now. 

And because he's feeling brave, he reaches down and traces his fingers along Lance’s eyelashes. They're darker than usual with salt water, the edges curling up beautifully and framing his brilliant blue eyes perfectly. Lance’s eyes flutter shut instinctively, so he stops because he wants to be looking at the blueness of it all some more. His hand comes to rest on the other boy’s cheek, Lance leans into it, a happy little smile gracing his lips. Keith soaks it all in, and says “Have I ever told you blue’s my favorite color?”

Lance’s answering grin is beaming, and Keith feels his pulse stutter at its absolute radiance.

 

\----------------

 

The news of his Galra bloodline eventually comes out. Keith doesn't want to keep it a secret, knows that it'll do more harm than good. Besides he has faith that his family will accept him. It's something he's never had before; hope for unconditional love.

There's the expected suspicion at first, Allura’s physical manifestation of disgust before she actually thinks about it. Pidge and Hunk seem a little worried and Shiro already knows, and then there's Lance whose reaction is: “As interesting as that is, I think there are more urgent secrets to discuss. Last week, Shiro told me you were hiding your _Texan_ heritage from us! I’m only willing to let it slide, just because you're kinda cute. For a _Texan_ anyway,” And just like that the tension disappears. Pidge and Hunk dissolve into a fit of laughter, and the Alteans ask what _Texan_ is and if it's contagious. 

Keith has never wanted to hug the blue paladin more than he does in that moment. He stops himself, and offers him a watery smile, Lance just winks, blows him a kiss and starts spewing out lies about Texas to confuse Allura and Coran.

 

\----------------

 

It's during their expedition to the belly of the Weblum that Hunk approaches him. He realizes now that the innocent questions about his Galra heritage were nothing more than an elaborate set up for this.

“So you and Lance?” Hunk asks, like it's a casual conversation.

Keith pauses from stuffing the bags of crystallized _whatever,_ into the Yellow Lion. “I don't know what you're implying,”

“Dude,” Hunk says shaking his head, “we all saw the way you guys were acting on Domum!”

“What? Were you guys _spying_ on us?” Keith asks, he'd known it was a possibility but at the time it hadn't seemed as mortifying.

Hunk laughs good naturedly, “Relax. I was waiting to flip the space patties. Also, I'm not making fun of you. I just want to know your intentions. Lance is my best bud after all.” 

Keith groans, doesn't really know what his intentions are. “I-I like him a lot,” He says because this isn't Shiro and he's too much of a coward to really tell the truth.

Hunk’s gaze is scrutinizing and heavy, “I don't think you're using the right L word,” he comments and lets it hang there between them.

“Doesn't matter,” Keith answers, not denying it is just as good as saying it. Right? “Nothing's happening between us. Nothing ever will.”

Hunk whines, it's surprisingly high pitched, “What why not? We’re all rooting for you! I'm sure Lance is just waiting for you to make the first move!”

He pretends not to hear the second part, choosing instead to focus on the first half, “I can't, Lance is _everything.”_  

Hunk sighs something sad and low, “Why do you say that like you're implying you're nothing?”

Keith freezes and goes completely silent; what even is there to say?

 

\----------------

 

The defeat of Zarkon reigns in a relatively peaceful era for them. There's still the threat of Haggar looming over them, but that's a problem for future Voltron. Coran tells them stories about how this was the sort of work the paladins of old used to do since there was no intergalactic war raging on back then – he excludes the liberation of Galra enslaved planets, because that's something unique to them. All in all, they're mostly sent on diplomatic missions. That's what currently has them docked on the outskirts of some ancient city.

Allura had insisted in formal wear, she's claimed it’s for respect of the royal family, but Keith doesn’t see why they can't just wear their paladin suits. He suspects it’s because Allura wants to see Shiro in a suit, he can respect that.

It's only Keith and Lance at the table, everyone else is either dancing or checking out the long buffet style food. Lance has his head resting on Keith’s shoulder like it's something they do at every party, he doesn't mind. “This is literally the most pretentious ball I've ever been to.”

Keith laughs, stops from where he's playing with Lance’s hand and lets their fingers twine instead, he waits to see if Lance will object. When he doesn't he continues on casually, “Have you actually ever been to a ball before this one?”

“No!” Lance exclaims, he can almost hear the frown in his voice “I just know that this is the _worst_ one.”

“Say that a little louder why don't you? I know you're bored but insulting our hosts isn't gonna make you less bored,”

“It's not just that! It’s also that guy over there who keeps giving me weird looks,” Instantly Keith’s eyes snap in the direction that Lance is indiscreetly pointing towards. He’s right, the alien has this raunchy look to him, like he's ready to devour Lance. The only thing holding him in place is the brunette’s warm hand in his own. The taller boy lifts his head from where it's no doubt been uncomfortably bent. Keith misses the worried look that he flicks between the alien and him. “I'm sorry I mentioned it.” He grabs his chin gently, coaxing him to turn his attention back on him. “Don't worry about it,”

“It's gross. I don't like it, _you_ don't like it,” Lance holds his gaze for a few seconds before Keith’s back to glaring at the lecherous looking alien.

“Okay, let's go dance then. He’ll lose me in the crowd!” Lance rubs circles on the back of his hand with his thumb. Keith’s momentarily distracted.

Blue eyes catch his, “I wouldn't lose you in a crowd,” Lance grins, his eyes a gleaming azure that catches the light reflecting from the chandelier. 

“That's okay, I like the way you look at me,” And isn't now just the perfect time for them just upright and _say it_. Except they don't, Lance just stands and lets their connected hands hang between them. “Dance with me?”

“I can't dance,” Keith answers.

“Fine, I'll just go dance with someone else,” He doesn't even make the move to fool him. Just stands there smiling and tugging at Keith to join him. Disregarding the fact that he’s probably going to embarrass himself in front of some very important people, but more importantly his team, Keith follows Lance to middle of the dance floor like the love struck fool he is.

At that exact moment the song changes from something upbeat and fast to a slower melodic tune. It's a blessing, now he can't just fake his way through a slow dance while being as close as possible to Lance. He wraps his arms around the other boys neck, while Lance does the same to his waist. He doesn't even bother with pretext of holding on to his hips, just pulls him closer instead.

“I like this song,” Lance hums, eyes falling shut as he presses his forehead against Keith’s. It’s so intimate, their breath mingles and all he has to do is press forward and they'll be kissing, but he's still a coward so instead he rubs his nose against Lance’s reveling in the feeling of his laugh against his lips. “I didn’t think you'd be one for PDA,” 

Keith wants to let him know that he’s not, it's just with _Lance_ . He wants everyone to know how much he loves him, wants to experience everything there is to experience with Lance and _only Lance._ “It’s nice,”

“You ever done this before?” Lance asks, nuzzling his face to the side so he can drop his head onto Keith’s shoulder.

“No.” He plans on stopping there, but something urges him on. “It's only you,”

Lance immediately pulls back at that and Keith's afraid he’s said the wrong thing, since the other is removing his arms from around his waist. He let's his own drop to his side in a disheartening fashion. Some of his worry dispels when Lance takes his face and cups either side with his hands. He doesn't say anything, but his eyes are a new kind of warm. The color of an ocean baking under the rays of a sun. And from this close he can see the dustings of seven different types of blues, knows that Lance’s eyes are proof that they're all made of stardust.

For a crazy moment he thinks Lance is going to kiss him, he can read it in the determined spark of his eyes, but he sighs and shakes his head. “You're cute when you blush,”

“If you say so?” Keith answers a little confused as to what's just happened, but happy that nothing's really changed. Lance raises Keith’s arms to his shoulders again before resuming his previous position. It's ridiculous that neither of them have said anything, he knows that Lance must've already figured it out because he's made it exceedingly obvious. He also knows that Lance must feel the same way on _some_ level or else what even is this?!

“You're thinking too much,” 

“You're not thinking enough,” That earns him an offended noise and smack to the shoulder blade. “What are _you_ thinking about anyway?” He prods, because when is he _not_ curious about all things Lance?

“Us,” Lance replies simply, and maybe this is it! Maybe this is the moment?

“What about us?” Keith asks, fingers tapping nervously at the nape of a smooth tan neck.

“Just you know the usual,” And excuse him for the frustrated growl that rips out of his throat. This slow burn isn't doing anyone any favors, so why can't Lance just get it over with? (It's hypocritical he _knows_ ). Either way Lance just laughs something breathy and pulls back enough to look him in the face. A hand leaves his waist and tilts his chin up so that he can't escape _those eyes,_ “What's your favorite shade of blue today?” 

Keith should say _none_ just to spite him, but he can't, not when he's staring at the most dazzling blue that could put galaxies and nebulas to shame, so he answers “The cosmic kind,”

His favorite crooked smile makes an appearance, “Oh yeah? Something you see out here in space today?”

“Yeah, saw it on earth first though,” It's the closest thing to a confession he's ever gotten to, but he doesn't think Lance gets the full implication.

“Wanna know my favorite color?” Lance asks, grip on his chin still forcing him to look up at him.

“Okay.”

He knows from the full fledged shit-eating grin that grows on the other boy’s face that he's not getting a serious answer. “It's yellow,”

“You suck,” 

“No, I'm serious!” Lance drops his hand and leans in excruciatingly close because he's a tease like that. “But not the tacky bright yellow. I like sunflower yellow. I think it's cause my ma grows them right outside my window in Cuba. They're the first thing I see every morning when the sun finally wakes me up,” He pauses and Keith feels like the next bit is serious, “In the summer you can help her water them. She likes to gossip then, so you’ll probably get an earful about all my siblings and me.” 

“I don't think she’d like my help, I drowned the cactuses I owned,” He’s testing the waters, wants to know how sincere Lance is. (But it's true, he has the opposite of a green thumb).

“That's okay, you can just keep her company while she works. She makes the best raspberry lemonade, you’ll love it.” There's no hesitation, it's just an open invite for him to meet Lance’s family, his _parents_ –he feels a bit like he's going to burst from happiness at the idea that this invitation is exclusive to him, that it's Lance’s own way of subtly confirming his feelings.

Still, hearing it out loud would be nice.

“Yeah, I can't wait to hear what a menace you were as a child,”

“ _E_ _xcuse me!_ I was a delight! She’ll tell you just that–” Lance’s indignation is cut short when Allura taps him on the shoulder.

She smiles apologetically when they're forced to pull apart, “Sorry to interrupt, but Princess Cazima has requested to dance with you Lance, she says that you have a quite charming disposition,” She sends a sympathetic glance towards Keith.

All he does is shrug, because the girl is twelve, she's not really a threat, and Lance has always been a hit with the younger aliens.

“Yeah alright, tell her I'll be right there,” Allura nods and heads towards where the girl is hiding behind the King’s leg. It's cute, he’ll admit it.

Lance turns back to him and gives him the most besotted look he can muster, “May we meet again,” is his grand goodbye. Still, he knows that the kiss to his knuckles is genuinely affectionate, he ignores the way Lance’s eyes linger on blush of his cheeks. With one last brush of his lips, he turns and heads in the direction he’d seen Allura go in. 

He leaves Keith standing in the middle of the ballroom, dresses swishing about as the pace of the song _finally_ picks up. He stands there like an idiot, a feeling of unimaginable and uncontainable love pouring out of him for the blue paladin.

 

\----------------

 

It's about a week later that things finally boil down to a confession. Keith’s insomnia is acting up again and he rolls around in his bed for about two hours before deciding that no, sleep isn't an option tonight. He slips on his socks and makes his way to the sky deck, he knows if anyone is up it's Lance – and even though the idea of Lance being up because of homesickness again makes his heart ache some minuscule part of him still hopes he’ll run into him.

Naturally he can't help the smile that grows, when he spots him, eyes focused into the vast expanse of space. His gaze falters when he hears Keith come in, so he looks over with a small smile and says, “Hey, wanna join me?” 

It's then, looking at a sleep ruffled Lance, blanket wrapped over his shoulders, hair soft and flat in a way only night time can provide, dark circles making the sad lonely blue of his homesick eyes contrast even more sharply against his skin – it's then that he says it, “I love you.”

Lance’s breath hitches, and he seems to stiffen up with surprise. It's not a positive reaction and he can feel the tendrils of panic wrapping around his heart. But he doesn't even get to spiral into a mess of insecure thoughts because Lance has his arms outstretched towards him, fingers wiggling like he's trying to draw him in. Tentatively Keith makes his way over; the second he's close enough to grab Lance hauls him into the cushions next to him.

Faces impossibly close, lips skimming over each other Lance says, “I love you too.” It doesn't take more than that for their lips to meet in soft slow kiss. Lance’s fingers tangle into his hair, his own finding their way to the other boy’s waist. Keith doesn't really know what he's doing, but Lance tilts their heads and things just get _better_. There's an indescribable heat between them, something all consuming. The kiss is languid, but it's full of passion like they're pouring all the words they haven't said into the momentous kiss. When they finally pull apart Lance’s eyes seem to be on fire.

Keith understands now why the hottest flames are always tinted blue, it's the fire of a sun being born.

Lance laughs and presses a kiss to his lips, and then another, and then another. “I could get used to this,” He says going in for another peck, before he just throws it all to the wind and starts smattering them all over his face. On his brows, his eyelids, the tip of his nose, his cheekbones, his Cupid's bow. Everywhere.

They fall into each other then; Keith’s smile so wide that he's unfamiliar with it. Lance sighs, something so extremely fond, “You’re making my heart do things with that,” He taps the corner of his mouth to indicate the smile.

“This took _way_ too long,” Keith says, fingers running over the planes of Lance’s face. He closes his eyes at the ministrations, leaning a little wherever Keith allows himself to linger. His skin feels particularly soft right now, a muted glow to it that's probably brighter in different lighting. “Did you just wash your face?”

“Yeah,” 

“Should I be touching your face?”

“No, you'll probably clog up my pores,”

“Do you want me to stop?”

“Don't you dare!”

They last a couple more minutes like that before Lance sits up, Keith following close behind. “You made me sleepy. Bed?” He asks, nudging their shoulders together.

“Yeah alright,” Keith agrees. It’ll practically be impossible for him _not_ to fall asleep with Lance’s warmth cuddled next to him.

Lance hesitates, fingers tangling themselves nervously in the blanket he carries. “So um, when –” He breaks off looking embarrassed, one deep breath later and he asks, “Since when is blue your favorite color?”

Keith knows that question is really: _‘Since when have you liked me?’_

He answers honestly, he’s not afraid to show Lance that this thing has been going on a lot longer than they've thought, “Second week at the Garrison.”

Lance’s eyes go wide, his hands scrambling to hold onto his, “Shut up,” he whispers, “No way, you're lying! You didn't even remember me when we rescued Shiro?” 

Keith rolls his eyes, “I’m serious. And I got nervous, it was the first time we’d talked!”

Lance gets this smitten look in his eye, “I was sure you didn't remember me! You didn't even seem a little flustered,”

“When did you know?” Keith asks, not really caring if it was the week before, as long as it got them to this place again.

“20 questions,” Lance shrugs.

“Why?”

“Cause that's when I knew you liked me, so I didn't have to be scared about all that unrequited stuff. Hey, were you obvious on purpose?” Lance asks, standing and pulling him up and towards the doors so they can catch some sleep before early morning training later. Something about that makes him freeze. 

“Wait, you _knew?_ Why didn't you say anything?”

“Well cause every time I initiate things, they end up all messy and horrible. I didn't want to take my chance with you,” It's a stupid reason, it really is. He honestly shouldn't be melting the way he is.

“Oh, well sorry for making you wait so long. I didn't get to skip the unrequited part,” Lance laughs and wraps his arm around his neck, ignoring the scowl in favor of lifting his head up with a nudge of his nose.

“I’d wait for you forever,”

Keith groans at the sheer ridiculousness of it all, and it only earns him another loud laugh. “Can we go to sleep now?” Lance asks, pressing a chaste kiss on his lips before moving ahead towards the corridors. Hand outstretched in an invitation to hold if Keith finally starts following him.

There’s a split second thought of something _so_ true when he takes Lance’s hand, he lets him lead the way, because: 

_He’ll follow Lance anywhere._

 

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't really posted a one shot, because my last fic got 1k kudos and I was left in shock by the amount of people who enjoyed it? like personally i thought it was floppy, i wanted to flesh it out, but got lazy. 
> 
> anyway Flirt Fiend really was the reason I went MIA, i just got so focused on the probability that i would never be able to top it's popularity that i just stopped writing.
> 
> but whatever i'm back because i was missing reading pining keith so i provided my own content. and that's what i do i just thoroughly indulge myself in whatever i want to read.
> 
> my tumblr @lance-cubano
> 
> edit july 18, 2017: i edited pidge's pronouns so that they're female instead of they/them because she's explicitly stated that she's a girl and doesn't mind when ppl use she/her pronouns on her.


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